


Lilac

by fangirls5ever



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura deserves nice things, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Nail Polish, and Lotor didn’t die in the rift, but Haggar did, colors as days, in which Lotor did not run the colony, slightly altered canon timeline, soft, this turned angstier than anticipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirls5ever/pseuds/fangirls5ever
Summary: A different color for each day, each separate from the next.——Or, Allura paints Lotor’s nails.





	Lilac

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicetryjackass](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nicetryjackass).



On Mondays, Allura cuts her nails, and paints them a soft sky blue.

Monday is when she meets with the Garrison leaders, when she directs them to possible trading ports in space to gather supplies, and on how she can use her lion to help rebuild. It’s a venture that desperately needs the patience and understanding her lion is said to embody, the qualities that _she_ is said to embody.

But even-tempered or not, it’s always good to have the reminder, something to anchor herself to.

On Tuesdays, Allura paints her nails black and red, and goes to the war councils held between the military leaders, Earth Pilots, and Voltron Coalition. She argues her point, takes risks, creates a reputation among the other leaders as being every bit a lioness. She is bold, daring, a strong and capable leader.

But such bravery is exhausting, and Allura is always glad to see the day pass, when she can paint her nails green, with the thumbs on both hands gleaming gold.

It’s then that she can tie back her hair, change out of the stiff Garrison uniform, and join Hunk and Pidge in managing the world’s food supply. With most farms having been destroyed in the Galra attack, the two paladins have been working hard to help earth’s citizens to set up small community gardens to care for and maintain together.

Wednesday is a long day filled with digging holes, pulling out weeds, and explaining the proper ways to care for the crops, sun on her shoulders and earth under her nails.

She’s always sad to see the day slip away slowly, easing itself into Thursday, when she paints her nails an orange the color of the Garrison uniforms, and goes with Lance and the Earth pilots to train. Victory is always certain for the lions in their games, but she’s impressed by the ingenuity of the pilots—even outmatched, they put up a fair fight, the strategy of their attacks perhaps leveling the playing field a bit.

But Allura and Lance are nothing if not clever, and they win as always.

Friday, Allura scrubs her nails clean and paints them with a clear coat, putting on rain boots, shorts, and a loose t-shirt as she goes to clean the blue lion.

True, it’s been said that the lions are self-maintained, but Allura is skeptical. Hundreds of thousands of years worth of dust, and the lion is perfectly spotless? Perhaps it’s rude of her to doubt, but truly, the logic does not make sense. 

So she goes out with a high-pressure hose, a bucket of water and soap, and a sponge, and starts first with cleaning out the bits of earth and debris wedged between the lion’s claws. Self-maintained as it is, Allura doubts it can heal with pieces of rock blocking the process.

After cleaning its paws, Allura motions the head down, Blue bowing obediently as she polishes the jawblade before moving onto the tip of the tail.

Hours pass mindlessly, almost numbingly, but when the work is done, Blue again stands tall and proud, the connection between them rumbling almost as though the lion is purring.

“Good kitty,” Allura murmurs, patting its paws affectionately before picking up the bucket and heading back to her quarters.

Saturdays pass with gray polish as she tries to persuade other planets into forming trade pacts with Earth. With little to offer now but the promise of future expansion, she is hard pressed to find an angle for the humans—but regardless, she persists, securing a number of key suppliers to help keep humanity fed while they struggle to get back on their feet.

The day passes slowly, dragging at her with each step, weighing her down.

But when Sunday comes, Allura wipes her nails clean again, and paints them a soft, glossy lavender.

It is, after all, her favorite day, though it breaks her heart with each one that passes.

Putting on a white dress and brown sandals, Allura makes sure to grab a bouquet of flowers on her way to the hospital wing, heart beating faster with each step.

The door is already open when she arrives, patient having just started his breakfast, though he visibly brightens at the sight of her, pushing aside the tray.

“Allura,” he greets, smooth voice belying the exhaustion he must feel.

Allura’s smile back is warm, affectionate, as she makes her way to sit beside him, taking his hand in hers. “Lotor.”

The Galra Emperor looks healthier than when she last visited, dark circles under his eyes nearly gone, though the effects of the Rift still linger in other ways.

Lotor traces his thumb along the back of her hand, eyes catching on a fleck of gray in the lilac paint. “Long week, princess?”

Allura gives him a wry smile. “And it all begins again tomorrow,” she says, shaking her head slightly before adding, “At least Shiro was here this week. The war council last time without him was... difficult to manage.”

“But you succeeded, regardless.”

“Of course. It took a bit more effort than usual, but eventually they saw that outright declaring war on the rebel Galra fleet was a poor course of action compared to diplomacy.”

Lotor blinks at her once, twice, yellow eyes wide at her statement. “They needed convincing of that?” he asks after a long pause.

Allura gives him a winning smile as she adds, “They had a war declaration drafted and ready to be signed.”

The Galra emperor sinks back into the hospital pillows with a blank stare, yellow eyes fixed on the ceiling. “How,” he asks. “How did they manage to hold out against Sendak for as long they did.”

“It’s a mystery to us all,” Allura agrees, looking down as she slips her free hand into the pocket at her side. Lotor tracks the action, watching as she at last pulls out a bottle of white polish and holds it up triumphantly between them.

His gaze is curious as she gives it a quick shake, gleaming in a way that it hasn’t since he was rescued from the rift, and the shadow creature living within him expelled.

Nail polish properly mixed, Allura tugs her hand free to unscrew the cap and hold up the brush, glossy white paint gleaming along the bristles. Giving Lotor a bright, almost mischevious grin, she says, “Hand, please.”

Lotor’s gaze is questioning, but still he complies, showing none of the wariness he exhibits around the earth staff that care for him. He’s silent as she sets the bottle on the ground, laying his palm flat against hers as she holds out the brush just above smooth, sharp-tipped nails. Flicking her fingers in quick, deft strokes, the first coat goes on evenly, smooth and glossy as she moves from the first nail to the second, and the second to the third, before the first hand is finished entirely.

“Next,” she says, and Lotor tugs his hand free, holding out the second compliantly. Allura starts on it quickly, but doesn’t miss the soft smile Lotor gets as he holds up his finished hand to study it, grin wide enough to show a flash of white fangs for just a moment.

Ducking her head, Allura tries to hide her own in response, gaze softening with undeniable fondness. Ever since he was rescued, Lotor’s happiness has been—elusive. The humans see him only as a sign of their old oppressors, the Altean colony as the savior that abandoned them to a cruel witch, and the other paladins...

Allura bites her lip, giving her head a minute shake. She needs to focus on the task at hand—take everything one step at a time, one day at a time.

Finishing the last nail with a flourish, Allura Finally notices how the hand she holds has relaxed into her grip, falling almost slack as she works. A quick glance at Lotor confirms this, yellow eyes having slipped shut, long white hair curled about his head as it rests again on the pillow. Being in the Rift for so long had pushed his body to the very limit—it’ll take time for it to heal, to become whole as it once was.

Gaze softening, Allura rests their hands together on the hospital bed, setting aside the polish as she leans in to kiss his forehead.

Lotor’s eyes flutter open as she leans back, gaze soft and unfocused as they flicker over to her. “Allura?” he murmurs, vision growing clearer, brows furrowing as he sees how she’s risen from her place beside the bed. “Leaving?”

Shaking her head, Allura settles again bedside the cot, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand. “It’ll be alright,” she says. “Sleep.”

Lotor’s eyes meet hers steadily even as his eyelashes brush lower and lower against his cheeks, sleep making his vision go dark and hazy along the edges.

Only when he can stay awake no longer, mind filling with black, black, black, does he hear her murmur, “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am my only beta, we die like men
> 
> Thank you so much for @nicetryjackass for requesting this! I’m sorry it turned out angstier than anticipated, but hopefully it’s okay :’D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


End file.
